


A Long, Long Way To Fall

by Beserk



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22880593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beserk/pseuds/Beserk
Summary: During the day, Jonathan was so alone he wanted to die. There was no sound, no life around him.In the night, though…In the night he was never, ever alone. Sometimes he could hear them, whispering in the dark behind him, in front of him. He could see them, rushing through the shadows, vague shapes that he could only see the edges of before they disappeared.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker, Jonathan Harker/Mina Murray
Comments: 4
Kudos: 150





	1. Chapter 1

During the day, Jonathan was so alone he wanted to die. There was no sound, no life around him. He'd felt alone before, of course. He still lived alone in his apartment in London- it would have been unthinkable to do anything else before the wedding. So, while Jonathan and mina spent most of their days by each other's side, at night Mina returned to the safety of her father's house and Jonathan stayed in his home.

But if he got lonely, or missed Mina too much, he'd leave the house and wonder the streets of London. So he was lonely, but not alone. He was surrounded by people. He'd go to see friends, or out to a pub where he was sure to meet his solicitor coworkers from Mr. Hawkins' firm.

And even when he was in his home, he could hear the city. The carriages going back and forth, the crying of the drunks and beggars, the laughter of drunkards attempting to make their way home. He could smell the city, tabaco and trains.

But here in the castle, he was truly alone. No sounds of life, no people around him. During the day, there was Jonathan and nothing else.

In the night, though…

In the night he was never, ever alone. Sometimes he could hear them, whispering in the dark behind him, in front of him. He could see them, rushing through the shadows, vague shapes that he could only see the edges of before they disappeared.

He could feel them, fingers caressing his skin, breath tickling the back of his neck. but when he turned, there was no one there. 

Even when he slept, in the night, when he dreamt of Mina, it wasn't just the two of them. He could feel someone watching them, and sometimes, Mina would disappear.

A dark figure would appear instead of her light one, trapping Jonathan in place with…he wasn't quite sure with what. But whatever it was, there was no way for him to fight it. He lay there, asleep yet somehow awake, aware and yet unable to move. The figure would bear down on him, restricting his breathing, and suddenly there was _pain_.

Pain unlike anything Jonathan had ever felt before. Pain in his throat, his blood being pulled out of him. He could feel it leaving, his life force being stripped away.

No matter what he did, he could never escape it, until the dark figure decided to leave.

Sometimes, when Jonathan found himself in the long, long table with the Count, all those shadows disappeared. It wasn't as though he was alone then, either. Because even when the Count wasn't paying attention to him, his presence was still an overwhelming oppressive force over Jonathan. It was like he was watching him even when he vey, very clearly wasn't.

It was hard to decide which was worse. When he was alone, it was like screaming into a void. It gave him so, so much time to think about his fear. But at night, he didn't have _any_ time to think about his fears.

The only thing he had time for was to _feel_ it.


	2. Chapter 2

He'd started sleeping through the day. At least that way he could be safe when he dreamed-know that the dark figure could not infiltrate his most private thoughts. At least not through his dreams. As far as he knew, the dark figure could worm into his mind even while he was awake, but one had to exert control somehow. 

It meant he started losing valuable time when he should have been searching for a way out of the castle. He was growing weak, though, and felt that if he did not manage to get a few hours of sleep at least, he would collapse and not be capable of doing any searching whatsoever.

Not that the undisrupted sleep was doing much for him anymore. He dreamt of blond hair, soft fingers caressing his skin and a tickling laughter. But he couldn't connect those things to anything. He knew they had once been the most important thing in his life. They were connected to a girl, a beautiful girl-

But he didn't know who she was, anymore. And sometimes it felt like she was just part of a dream that he had had once. Because it didn't feel as though he had ever had a life outside of the Castle.

A life outside of the dark figure.

Now that he was only sleeping during the day, Jonathan never woke up with new bites on his neck. Instead, while he was wondering the dark halls, he'd be grabbed and thrown into one of the many, many empty bedrooms. He'd be placed on the bed, and then the dark figure would rip into his throat.

Sometimes he missed sleeping through the feeding. It hurt less. But there was something grounding in the pain. It seemed proof that he was still alive. He did not think the dead felt pain. And he needed the sleep, otherwise he would go even madder than he was already going.

Even his dreams though, were becoming nightmares. Instead of dreaming of the blond phantom, he dreamt of the dark figure. Jonathan was awakening now after a horrific dream of the dark figure dragging him down, down into a dark pit.

Groaning, Jonathan sat up on his bed. It felt as though the act of pushing his blanket off was as hard as pushing off an entire ocean. He didn't have enough time, though, for exhaustion. Not unless he wanted to die.

Jonathan tumbled out of the bed, collapsing down to the floor. Every single one of his bones was breaking as he fell to the ground and he gasped out in pain, unable to stop himself. But when he looked down at his body, it appeared perfectly…well, not _well_ , but there were no broken bones, at least.

He took a deep breath and tried to sit up, grasping at the bed posts for support. He managed to get himself into a seated position and rubbed his face, closing his eyes for a moment to get his breath back.

Just for a moment…

When he opened them again, he could tell the night had fallen. He was no longer alone, the spectres at the edge of his consciousness was back.

_"Sărmanule băiețel_ _…"_

The words were whispered into his ear, but when Jonathan twisted, there was no one there.

No. That was wrong.

There was someone there, or at least some _thing_. A shimmering in the corner that Jonathan could not quite identify. If he needed to describe it with words, he would have said it looked like water, standing up in the shape of a human girl. But those words did the specter a disservice. It was much more unnatural then that.

_"Cât de speriată ești..."_

This time, the words were coming from the corner. Jonathan swallowed, terrified. There was something there, but he couldn't see it, so he couldn't fight it.

"Who's there?" Jonathan whispered. "My name is Jonathan Harker-"

" _El are un nou prieten_ ," There was a gust of wind and the shimmering moved, coming to a stop in front of Jonathan's face. And there it was again, phantom fingers touching his skin. He gasped in fear and stumbled backwards, falling back down on the ground, sending daggers of pain down his spine. " _C_ _opil sarac_."

"I don't know what you're saying!" Jonathan cried out. "Please!"

The shimmering hesitated over him, and then suddenly, there was a yet another gust of wind, and the phantom was gone. For half a moment Jonathan was finally alone, but then he felt a warm breath on his skin.

"Johnny..." The dark figure whispered into his ear, and then a cold tongue lapped over the skin of his ear lobe. "That must have been frightening."

Jonathan's breath hitched in fear, and he decided that it was time to ask something that had been bothering him for a while.

"Am I dead?" He tried to keep hsi voice level, but it broke on the last word.

"Not yet," The dark figure replied. Jonathan wondered if that was meant to be encouraging.

Shockingly, it was not.

"When, then?" Jonathan closed his eyes.

"Would you like to know?" The dark figure sounded genuinely curious.

"Yes."

"Why, darling?"

Jonathan shook his head. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason it seemed important.

"Oh, I think I can guess," The dark figure picked Jonathan up and placed him on his bed. "You want to know if you'll be alive by the date you'd have married Mina on, don’t you?"

Opening his eyes in confusion, Jonathan watched the dark figure (he had a name, didn’t he? Jonathan had known it once, just like he had once known the warmth of the sun) settle on the bed next to him on the bed, placing his head on his outstretched arm and smirking down at him. Jonathan blinked.

"Who's Mina?" He asked.

"Have you forgotten her already, love?" The dark figure's free hand came to rest on Jonathan's cheek, tilting his head so their lips were inches away from one another. "That was rather quick. It usually takes a bit longer."

"Is she the dream?" Jonathan whispered.

"She is," The dark figure grinned. "Oh, you dreamt of her every night. I wonder if you still do? You've started sleeping during the day, you clever little boy, I can't get into your dreams when you do that."

Jonathan tried to think, "She's real, then?"

"She was," The dark finger caressed Jonathan's cheek with his clawed fingers. "But not anymore."

Not anymore?

"Is she dead?"

"No, Johnny, my darling little boy," The dark figure leaned forward. "She simply does not matter anymore."

And then he kissed him, hard. Something deep inside of Jonathan told him that that was wrong, that he shouldn’t do this-

He couldn't remember why.

When they broke apart, the dark figure smiled down at him, looking soft and gentle.

"Who am I, my Johnny?"

Jonathan took a deep breath, burrowing his face into the dark figure's chest, "You're Dracula."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (According to Google, so Romanian speakers, please be kind if I fucked up 😊)  
> Sărmanule băiețel: poor boy.  
> Cât de speriată ești: how scared you are.  
> El are un nou prieten: He has a new friend.  
> Copil sarac: poor child.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up in a strange bed. He'd woken up in many, many beds all over the castle, so he wasn't concerned. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been concerned. _Terrified_ , yes. But not concerned.

This bed was enormous, so large that Jonathan didn’t even reach the sides when he stretched all four of his limbs. He blinked up at the ceiling, seeing the dark stone there. The soft silk sheets bit into the thaw-dust skin that surrounded his bones.

It would have been so nice a few days earlier, so pleasant. But he was in constant pain now and everything hurt. The air caressing his skin when he walked hurt. The phantom breathes of the spectres on his neck were like daggers being buried in his skin.

Every time he moved, the clothes on his back shifted on his skin, sending daggers of pain into his body. It was a fight to take every step, now just because of his exhaustion, but because every step was so very painful.

But it wasn't as if laying on the large bed _wasn't_ painful. Perhaps it wasn't as bad, but it also meant that he was doing nothing and had nothing to take his mind off of the horror that was his existence.

Jonathan took a deep breath. Sometimes getting some more air into his lungs helped to deal with the pain. Not at the moment, though. If anything, it was making it bloody worse. Was he breathing in air? It rather felt like lava was being poured into his lungs. Jonathan groaned and closed his eyes, trying not to pass out from the pain. For a moment his consciousness wavered between the two states, but then he was pulled right back by an explosion of pain on his chest.

Jonathan screamed, eyes opening to see the edges of a finger touching his chest. He panted, trying to get his breathing back into a semblance of control.

"Hush, love," A soft voice whispered, and Jonathan closed his eyes again, head falling on the pillow. "You look rather worn out, Johnny. Not much lest in you, is there?"

Jonathan didn't bother responding. Not that he could, even if he wanted to. Talking required energy, didn't it? He wasn't entirely sure, it had been a while since he tried to speak.

"Well, lucky for you, I've decided to give this another weak or two," Dracula grew silent for a moment, and then added, "You're welcome."

Jonathan whimpered in pain again when Dracula's fingers caressed his forehead lightly.

"Ah, I suppose it's a bit too much to expect a stimulating conversation out of you in this state."

Another stab of pain went through Jonathan, but this one did not stop. Instead of a knife going in and out, it was as if the knife had _stayed in_. Jonathan cried out as he was picked up from the bed. He was dying, he must be dying, there was no way he could possibly survive the pain-

God preserved him, was he being burned alive-

"Hush," A warm breath whispered into his ear. "Stop screaming, you'll scare the dead."

Oh. That was good. It meant Jonathan wasn't dead yet.

That _was_ good, wasn't it?

He tried to stop his screaming while he was led to another room and placed on a freezing cold stone floor. But it was impossible, especially when he felt his clothes being peeled off his skin.

It felt like the outer layer of his skin was taken off along with his clothes.

"Shh," Dracula whispered into his ear, and once again picked him up. Jonathan kept his eyes tightly closed, trying to stop himself from screaming. He did not want to bring Dracula's wrath down on him. And if he was going to die, he'd rather not die screaming like a child.

The pain stopped.

Just stopped. For a moment Jonathan didn't even realize that, so used to pain that he didn't remember anymore what flesh without it felt like. But this was it. The soft liquid touching him, caressing him softly as if it were a lover, soothing his skin and body. This was what it felt like to not suffer.

Jonathan opened his eyes.

He was floating in an enormous bathtub, so deep that the tips of his toes weren't even touching the bottom. But the bathtub wasn't full of water.

It was filled of blood.

But he was too tired, and far, far too relieved to truly worry about it. Or fully process it.

"There."

Jonathan's eyes flipped up to see Dracula, who on the tip of the tub, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dracula was smiling, his fingers trialing over the blood. He took his finger out and dipped them in his mouth.

"That's better, isn't it?" Dracula rubbed Jonathan's hair (at least what was left of it), but it didn't hurt anymore. If anything, it felt warm and soft and comforting.

Jonathan just kept staring. The relief was so great that it made him dizzy and rather lightweight. It was rather hard to think.

"Johnny?" A hand came to wave in front of Jonathan's face. "You still with me there?"

Blinking, Jonathan shook his head, trying to clear his head.

"Is-is this blood?"

"Hmm," Dracula tilted his head, mockingly. "Is it? Yes, I rather think it is."

Jonathan swallowed. His head was starting to clear, but it was still rather hard to think. His mind was somewhere else, somewhere with the young woman with blond hair. He wondered if she was real. He'd thought she was real, once. But had he simply been mistaken? Mad? Had he been hallucinating? Which meant that he wasn't now.

Which meant he truly was in a bathtub full of blood. And that was wrong.

Jonathan gasped and started thrusting, trying to make his way out of the bathtub. But then a hand landed on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Do you truly want to come out of the bathtub?" Dracula murmured. "You'll be in pain again."

Jonathan hesitated. He looked up at Dracula, and swallowed. His eyes were red-and-black, and fear pulsed through him. That meant something, didn't it?

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember a thing.

"Do you want me to help you out of the bathtub, my Johnny?"

Why was he calling him that? There was something in Jonathan that told him that that was very, very wrong. That he shouldn't call him that. That that right belonged to someone else.

A blond girl with laughter in her heart.

Dracula caressed the now soft skin on his cheek, "You'll have to come out at some point, Johnny. Now, or later? Do you want me to help you out?"

Jonathan closed his eyes and shook his head. He'll have to come out at some point, and when he does, he’ll have to worry about what it meant, that the only thing that could soothe him was human blood.

But not right now.

"That's my Johnny."

He wanted to cry. But he was so tired, it was easier not to.


	4. Chapter 4

Dracula looked down at the boy in the tub. His body was entirely beneath the bloodline, and his face was covered as well, red drops falling slowly down from his hair. He was a vision in red, the only uncovered part of him were his eyes.

So tired, so frightened. Those eyes flipping around and around. They had once been a beautiful baby-blue, but were now dulled by pain and exhaustion (and near death, if he was being frank).

Dracula wasn't going to lie, though, it made him far, far more beautiful. So close to death, Johnny was a clean slate, just waiting to be painted on with the darkness and blood that surrounded Dracula like a second skin.

Not that he'd planned on doing so. He was about to leave the bloody country- this really wasn't the time for acquiring a new bride. What he needed to do now was get _rid_ of his brides.

Johnny was making him have rather serious doubts about his plans, though. Just looking at him, the aura of death that surrounded him, the madness lurking in the back of his mind, but not quite there-despite the months of solitude…

It made him hope, just a little bit. He really should have pushed the hope down and simply killed Jonathan- cut his head off so there was no chance of him returning to life. He knew perfectly well how this went-he hoped, just a bit, as he drained the blood of the ones who would be his bride, as he left them dead on the floor.

And then he waited. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. It had even taken three weeks, once.

Every time they stirred, those men and women, hope cried out in his soul. And then, as sure as the sun raising in the east, they growled and bit, reduced to animals and nothing more, or began begging for blood. Animals with the ability to speak. Nothing more.

Their dead eyes squeezed the life out of that hope, every time. Most would think it would have gotten easier with time.

Well. Most would also think that vampires aren't real.

Dracula looked back at the bathtub. The boy had fallen asleep, or perhaps it was more appropriate to say he'd lost consciousness, and was now floating above the blood. It appeared to Dracula as though he were floating, like an angel in the skies, on the blood.

It suited him.

"Well, my Johnny, any opinion on the matter?" Dracula hummed, touching Johnny's bloodened forehead. "Are you going to be another disappointment?"

Rather predictably, Johnny did not respond. Dracula kept on trailing his fingers over his face, noticing how softer the skin was now. So much softer than the cracked, harsh skin he had had before being placed in the bathtub.

"Suits you, being in blood. Is that a good sign?" Dracula whispered, then shook his head. "Does that mean you'll be my perfect bride? Keep your will and soul and heart?"

Johnny's eyes moved behind his eyelids, but other then that he did not stir.

"Never mind that. Let's get you out of the bath, shall we, love? There's still something you need to do for me."

He wanted to see the sun again.


End file.
